


Moments

by jcd1013 (redheadgleek)



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: 100 words, Drabble, Drabble Collection, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-07-08 16:27:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15934154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redheadgleek/pseuds/jcd1013
Summary: A collection of drabbles written for Gilmore Girls





	Moments

**Author's Note:**

> These were all drabbles (100 word stories) that I wrote years ago when I was active in the fandom - I'm pretty sure they were all written before season 4 happened. I'm trying to organize my fic, so I'm posting them now.

** Innocence **

She skipped when she walked. 

Not consciously, no. She had a new book she was reading, she eagerly told him. _The DaVinci Code_. And as she explained the theories of wombs, love and divinity encoded into art, her feet betrayed her excitement of newfound knowledge by hopping—a quick, small leap—and she swung their linked hands forward in an arch. 

It was moments like these that Jess knew he was lost. Her body would divulge such passion and fervor and yet she remained so beguiling innocent—a siren never before encountered. And he crashed on her rocks and drowned.

 

** A Chance Encounter **

She stepped off the bus, took the right turn without needing directions, passed the bookstore and hot dog stand and traced the crowded streets back to his sanctuary. Washington Square Park. It is early spring now and there's a bite to the air. In four years nothing has changed. Except his bench is empty.

New York is a big city but she still hopes for a pass-by in the streets, a shared movie theater, a meeting in a restaurant. It's never happened, but she still sees his face in strangers'.

So she sits on his bench and waits for destiny.

 

** The Truth **

"Yeah."

An answer to a question. According to beauty magazines, the typical response to "will you call me?" Second only to "I had a nice time." Short. Inadequate. A lie. For him it was goodbye.

He did call. But he was already gone. And I had hardened my heart to his absence. I ignored the glimpses of laughter, of happiness and security, a future life together. I pictured instead incidents of neglect. Of bitter disappointments when he refused to be the person that I could see inside.

With him, I almost believed in soulmates. Now all I have is emptiness.

 

** Unspoken **

He didn't say goodbye.

He slouched on the seat and watched her get on the bus and notice him. He memorized her during the small talk, adored her in the silence, all the while regretting his decision. Once again, he had no choice.

The last time, he had left her in a hospital, hurt because of him. Luke had seen him to the bus station. Rory had followed him to New York in search of the closure.

So he closed his mouth and, with a promise to call, watched her depart.

He hoped that she would still demand a goodbye.

 

**Cravings**

After he left, she developed classic symptoms of withdrawal. Her skin itched, where his touch had often rested—the inside of her wrist, the top of her hip, the nape of her neck. Her lips burned from the absence of his. And her mind protested the loss of his stimulating opinion.

Hope blurred to obsession. Every voice was his, every dark head, every slouched walk. 

She never intended to go cold turkey, losing him abruptly, leaving her with might have been. How was she to go on?

Perhaps this was love defined, an addiction that one never quite got over.

 

**When You Say Nothing**

Her mother opinionated the less said, the sooner forgotten, so she tried... It was surprisingly easy to never mention him. Small-town gossip long dead, nobody attempted to bring the subject up. And her roommates never engaged in all night chats, spilling secrets and analyzing relationships.

Sometimes, the urge to talk — about him, his attraction, her frustrations, his leaving — was overwhelming. But she clamped down, denying the words' escape.

First time in months, she spoke his name. It tasted foreign and her difficulty remaining casual felt painfully transparent. True, it no longer hurt, but her pretenses crumbled... 

She still loved him.

 

**Lost** (Emily)

She had always been a sulky child. Most of Emily's memories consisted of forcing on darling frocks of pinks and frills, pulling combs through ratty hair, tying ribbons around tangles—and a tear-stained face that sullenly greeted her parents' friends.

Her husband spoiled the child, when he was home. As his business grew, so did his absences from home, and proportionally Lorelai's misbehavior.

By Lorelai's thirteenth year, Emily had lost control. Pretenses were kept up in public, but alone, all interactions terminated in shouts. 

The night Lorelai left, baby in arms, Emily wondered exactly when she had lost her daughter.

 

**Betrayal** (Lorelai, Rory/Dean, season 2)

Through the streak-free windows of Luke's Diner, Lorelai watched her daughter say goodbye to her boyfriend.

Perhaps yesterday, she wouldn't have noticed that the kiss was brief or that Rory was the first to pull away, leaving without a farewell glance.

No, yesterday, she was calming Dean. Rory would never lie to him, lie to her. 

An overheard conversation had shattered that belief. 

For so long, she had worried that her daughter would follow her footsteps. But their relationship was strong and Rory confided everything.

Like a lobster in slowly heating water, she had ignored the warnings. Now she burned.

 

 

** Gone **

Signs of Jess lingered—forgotten toothbrush and patented hair-gel in the bathroom, dirty shirts in the hamper, scattered CDs of grunge bands.

The apartment stood empty, devoid of loud music and strewn novels, a neatly made bed in the corner. If only that corner could become a wall again and memories could wink out of existence, with no reminders of how he failed his nephew. But that was foolish and Luke was never foolish.

He shipped Jess's belongings priority.

Things went back to normal, but he kept a box of sugared cereal, just in case Jess decided to come home.

 

**Forms of Carbon ** (Lindsay, peripheral Dean)

The ring dazzled when he proposed, reflecting as starlight and love and youth. A solitaire diamond from carbon pressed through millennia to create brilliance. A blemish marred the sparkle—she ignored it. It was perfect.

In nine months of marriage, she had never taken it off; her finger couldn't remember the weightless feeling before he committed to love her until death.

Tonight, it was black and heavy, the silver cold. The moment he stepped into their bedroom—she knew. That single flaw, a crack in his past, had poisoned their marriage tonight.

The lump of ash tightened against her finger.

 

**A Second Chance** (Dean/Lindsay)

He noticed her first at a pickup basketball game. She played point guard, running back and forth, bouncing the ball smoothly to her teammates.

An open shot. The ball glided from her arched fingertips and swooshed gracefully into the basket.

Sweat gleamed on her forehead. She was the first girl he thought beautiful since Rory.

Their romance was a whirlwind and he was in love. A mere four months later, a week before they graduated, he proposed on one knee. Lindsey accepted with an ecstatic kiss.

They married, and he was happy, and Rory, he left behind with high school. 

 

**Parallel Decisions** (AU)

At five a.m., Lorelai broke her shoe heel. A tragedy. She tried to rouse Dean, but he slept like the dead on the hard bleachers. In desperation, she asked the one person still awake, staring intently at the girl draped sleepily in her arms. He agreed and Rory, now wide awake, exchanged partners. They moved the feet in a slow shuffle, looking only into each other's eyes.

Dean awoke, livid at the sight. A fight ensued, with flying accusations. He stormed out and Rory cried in Jess's arms, then smiled in confirmation. Now, together, they continued to dance, content, and won.

 

**Chance Encounter** (Jess/Lane AU)

She was the first person he noticed, getting off the bus. Eyes closed, mouth moving silently, hands with sticks vigorously beating out an unknown tempo on the bench. He spied skewed headphones buried under dark hair.

His presence startled her and her eyes flew open, panic flitting across her face, then curiosity.

"You're new," she said.

"You're smart," he replied, in a typical monotone.

Her eyes danced as she probed about his music tastes. He pretended disinterest, but swiped a CD. He'd return it later, replaced with his eclectic mix.

He continued towards his uncle's diner.

Welcome to Stars Hollow.

 

**Sea-Longing** (interlude from _Like Never Before_ , chapter 5)

Every night, I read to her. I told her about Tolkien and water. Water, archetype for change: A push in a river that gave me family. A sleigh ride in crystal snow, that started out just to annoy her boyfriend and ended in infatuation. Lunch on a bridge, where I lose myself in her company. A kiss by the pond, _her_ kiss of passion and hope.

Rory is my river, my water. She changed me so I was a stranger in the city I called home and had no choice but to return. But concerning her boyfriend, she is stone.

 

**Courage** (Paris/Brad – small little epilogue to my story Like Never Before)

Paris Gellar, senior president of Chilton, was nervous, hands sweating, as she maneuvered her car into the parking stall.

Her stomach lurched painfully, when she noticed him, leaning against the stone gray walls, trying to look cool and composed—and failing miserably.

The gargoyles above mocked her, as she froze mid-step. Everyone seemed to be staring, whispering of her cowardice.

That freed her feet. She marched up, leaned in and kissed Brad. His response left her weak.

"You still like me?" She demanded, almost shyly, and at his blossoming nod, took his hand. "Good."

She thought the gargoyles were smiling.

 

**Do You Believe in Magic** (continuation of _What a Wonderful World_ )

He came in the darkened room and nudged her awake. She giggled in agreement and he helped her put on her pink boots, new blue parka and matching scarf and hat. They trudged outside, her hand in his, and together they made snow angels and a miniature snowman family like her own. He told her how snow was tiny bits of frozen water, and when she asked how, he replied "with most snow, it's because it gets really cold, but the first snow is magic."

The office claimed her father, but Lorelai watched for the first snow and remembered magic.

 


End file.
